Chapter Seventeen: Hope to Die
Disclaimer: I still don't own Prince of Tennis. No, really, I don't!
Author's Note: Here's chapter seventeen! Remember, the complete Author's Note for this fic is posted in chapter one. But here are the warnings, summarized for your convenience: May contain spoilers/ shonen-ai/ not-shonen-ai/ please review/ flamers will be sucked into the alternate dimension that is "Tezuka Zone." Lol.
Well, here it is. One of the most important chapters in the whole fanfic. Let me just say that this one is for you all. All you reviewers and all you faithful readers, too. You're all amazing, and I can't thank you enough for giving my fic a chance and reading up to this point. Hopefully you are all still enjoying the story? Well, please do enjoy this chapter! One teensy warning: This is, without a doubt, the most angst-ridden chapter of them all. With any luck, it will still be enjoyable. It begins, by the way, with a flashback, and there are quite a few flashbacks from this point on. Those scenes are italicized. Well, let me know what you all think of chapter seventeen!
I had a dream last night.
I dreamed that I was falling, deeper and deeper… falling into the sea…
I reached for you with both arms, as I fell.
The water in front of my eyes turned blood red.
…
…
…
Fuji reached for the book lying next to Oishi's foot. He picked it up and gazed intently at the cover, trying to decipher the English title.
"'American Poems.' That's what it says, right?" Fuji asked, catching Oishi's attention. The former vice captain glanced at the binding and nodded. "Yeah. It's one of the books for my poetry class."
The three overseas students were relaxing in Fuji's apartment, snug and comfortable inside the heated living room. Outside, the rain was pouring down with unhinged aggression. It reminded Oishi more of English weather than the usually temperate Parisian climate. He turned his attention away from the window and back to the tensai, who had begun flipping through the textbook.
Fuji had just opened to a page that had been marked with a small piece of paper. He stared intently at the English headings, translating them in his head.
"Walt Whitman," he said finally, with a kind of satisfaction at having figured out the pronunciation. "An American poet, hmm? Aren't American poets rather unsophisticated?"
"I wouldn't say that," Oishi replied slowly, gazing at the open book. He knew which poem Fuji had turned to. He had marked that one for a personal reason…
"Well, read it," Fuji urged, holding the book out to Oishi.
There was a momentary pause. Oishi found himself glancing at Tezuka, who was sitting by the fireplace reading a novel. But the former captain didn't seem to be paying any attention to their conversation.
Almost reluctantly, Oishi gave Fuji a slight nod and took the book from the tensai's hands.
He took a deep breath, and he began to read…
"Oh Captain! my Captain! Our fearful trip is done…"
The words caught Fuji's attention immediately, and Tezuka too looked up from his book. Oishi didn't ask why they were so interested. He knew why. After all, they both understood spoken English remarkably well…
And as for their interest in the subject… well… he knew why.
He continued…
"The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!..."
Here Oishi's voice first began to waver, but he kept on bravely and finished the stanza without stopping. Everything else in the room was completely still.
"O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead."
As though he had forgotten where he was, Oishi continued on through the rest of the poem, reading the second stanza as passionately as though it was he himself who had penned the lines…
"O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning…"
Oishi had risen to his feet now, still pronouncing the words with a strange amount of feeling. Fuji was listening, completely spellbound. In his mind, the words were not being spoken by Oishi. They were being spoken by a voice that had appeared out of thin air, a voice that echoed in his thoughts as vividly as condemnation itself.
His blue eyes were wide with the force of those words. In a strange way, he seemed to already know what they were going to say, before Oishi could even pronounce them…
"Here Captain! dear Captain!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead."
Oishi suddenly slowed down at the last stanza, an almost horrified expression on his face as he spoke the lines.
"My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still…"
Tezuka was watching his friend's face intently, listening to every word. And when Oishi paused and looked straight at him, he knew.
Oishi was speaking to him.
The memories of that horrible night filled Tezuka's mind…
"My Captain does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will."
Those dull green eyes stared straight at Tezuka. Oishi's eyes never returned to the book, as he recited the last stanza flawlessly, in an almost hollow voice.
"The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!"
Oishi's voice shook as he gazed at Tezuka's face, watching as the firelight danced across those amber eyes.
"But I, with mournful tread…"
Tezuka looked as pale as a corpse, even in that flickering light.
"Walk the deck my Captain lies…"
Suddenly, Fuji's beautiful voice joined Oishi's, and they recited the last line together.
"Fallen cold and dead."
- - - - - - - - -
Ryoma woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed. For a moment, he wondered where he was… and then he recognized the hotel room, and he remembered again.
He had slept very badly. In fact, he couldn't remember ever having such a restless night, full of tossing and turning and haunted by all kinds of nightmares. It wasn't like Ryoma to have bad dreams, not at all…
… But then again, everything that had happened to him lately was "nothing like him."
Trying to shrug off the memory of the worst of the dreams, he tossed the bed sheets aside and got out of bed, glancing at the clock. It was still early, but it was long past dawn, and he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. Not now.
Not when it was already morning…
…
"Tomorrow morning. At the overpass a block from the hotel."
…
No matter how Ryoma looked at it, he had been waiting for this. He had been waiting for this moment ever since he had returned to Japan… No, even longer than that. He had been waiting for this ever since he left, five years ago…
Five years ago, when he had said goodbye, and he had cried.
He had made a promise to Tezuka, to all of them, before he had left on that airplane so long ago. It seemed so far away, when so much had happened, when so much had come between them, so much more than oceans and miles and hours…
And yet…
…
"I'll come back, Buchou. I promise."
…
This was it. He had waited to see Tezuka again. He hadn't realized how badly he had wanted this, until Tezuka had returned to Japan himself. Ever since the moment when the former Seigaku Regulars had stood, reunited, in the hotel lobby, Ryoma knew.
Ryoma knew that, sooner or later, this moment had to come. The moment when he would understand what had happened, when he would understand everything…
Why had Tezuka disappeared? Why did he leave for Germany? Why had everything fallen apart like this?
… Had he really quit tennis?
Ryoma couldn't even imagine what he would do if that were really true.
Maybe that's why Oishi-senpai warned me.
… But I have to know.
Ryoma looked out toward the large window in the hotel room. One of the curtains was only partially shut, and the faintest color of dawn could still be seen in the morning sky.
It was sunset back then.
But it's dawn now, Buchou.
And I have to know.
- - - - - - - -
Tezuka stood in his hotel room, staring out the window at the fading dawn. He watched as the sunlight filled the busy city, marking the start of another day. But even with the light before his eyes, his thoughts were filled with darkness. The darkness of a horribly black night, and of rain…
…
It was a stormy day, and the whole world seemed dark. It reflected Tezuka's state of mind all too clearly. It had already been months, months since that infamous defeat at the Kantou Regionals. It should have been the farthest thing from his mind, and in a way, it was.
And yet, since that horrible day so many months ago, Tezuka had never quite been the same. He knew this was true, and he had tried to shake it. He acted as though everything was the same, and given his stoic personality, he was quite sure that very few people had even noticed the difference…
He would be alright, anyway. He had already been accepted into an excellent college in Kyoto, on a generous scholarship. The school was right next to a training center, and Tezuka would be able to complete his college studies and continue playing tennis at the same time.
That was his goal, of course. To play tennis. To become a pro.
Because that was where Echizen was, after all.
Echizen Ryoma. It had been so long since he had seen the boy in person. Three years, to be exact, and in a way, he hardly remembered why that boy had such a hold on him in the first place. But Tezuka did remember why he played tennis: just like he had taught Ryoma to do, he too was reaching higher and higher. He was aiming for the top. He was going to stand on top of the world as a champion.
That was what he had been born to do, and if it also resulted in being able to face Ryoma on the championship court one day, so much the better.
That was his dream. That was his life.
Tennis.
… But it really was such an ugly day, Tezuka couldn't help thinking as he packed up his things to go home. It was strange, that bad weather should have had such a negative effect on him. Normally, he hardly would have noticed. But today… the day was just so horribly bleak, with those reluctant rain drops pouring down like tears…
Tezuka shrugged off the thought. It was ridiculous, after all, to let the rain upset him.
It was ridiculous. … but even so…
Tezuka slung his bag over his shoulder and turned to leave, only to see Fuji Shusuke standing right in front of him, staring very intently into his eyes. The tensai's own blue eyes were open, glinting with an unusual light.
"F-Fuji…" Tezuka stammered, only slightly… But he really couldn't help his surprise. He hadn't noticed the tensai come up alongside him. Normally, he noticed things like that, but today, he hadn't heard a thing…
"Tezuka," was Fuij's simple reply. He was still staring, and Tezuka felt a chill go up his spine.
Fuji was starting to do that lately. Making Tezuka feel uncomfortable, that is. It had never happened to the stoic tennis captain before. Nothing fazed him...
But lately, Fuji's slightly strange behavior had genuinely started to disturb Tezuka, to leave him vaguely unsettled even hours after they had parted ways. He couldn't quite say what it was about Fuji that was bothering him, but there was something in those eyes lately that had never been there before… especially since the tensai had broken off his relationship with Hoshina Kimiko…
… Though Hoshina Kimiko was the last thing that Tezuka wanted to think about at that moment in time.
Tezuka took a deep breath and tried to excuse himself from the tensai's presence.
"If you'll excuse me, Fuji, I'm going to leave now."
For a moment, Fuji looked ready to respond with a simple nod, maybe even resume his normal masked smile. But he didn't. He didn't stop staring. What was stranger, he stood directly in Tezuka's way and wouldn't let him leave.
"Fuji, is something---"
"I need to talk to you, Tezuka," came the blunt answer. Those blue eyes were still staring at him; Tezuka could feel them as distinctly as if they were burning into his skin. But he couldn't quite look the tensai in the face, somehow…
"What do you want to talk to me about?" the captain finally managed.
"I wanted to tell you that I've decided where I'm going to college," was the tensai's unexpected reply.
Tezuka looked up again at that; it had taken him by surprise. Fuji had been wavering on that issue for months, and it was already very close to graduation… Everyone had been wondering where Seigaku's enigmatic genius would be going for college. And he had actually made a decision? And he was here to tell Tezuka, first of all? … It must have been him first of all, because otherwise the whole school would have already been talking about the news, and Tezuka hadn't heard a thing about it... In a way, Tezuka was rather flattered at the distinction.
"Really? Where?" he asked, with a slightly uncharacteristic eagerness. He couldn't help it; he was very curious. Part of him had been wondering for over two years. After all, he greatly respected Fuji, even apart from his strange decision to quit the tennis team that past year…
"I'm going to Paris."
Tezuka felt his heart actually stop beating. It was a completely foreign sensation to him, but then, he had never been so surprised before…
"You're going where?" he repeated, with only the tiniest hint of shock in his voice.
Fuji was still staring at him, with that icy gleam in his eyes.
"I said, I'm going to Paris. I'm running away," the tensai declared, in that beautiful voice.
It took a moment for Tezuka to really process what Fuji had said.
"You're running away?" he finally repeated, actually frowning by this point. "What does that mean?"
Fuji smiled, but that familiar smile was slightly darker than normal, as though he found something horribly ironic.
"It means I'm running away," he answered lightly, as though it all made perfect sense. "I'm sick of this stupid island. I want to get away from it all, and so…"
Fuji tossed his head, shrugging like the whole matter was completely inconsequential.
"I thought maybe I could run away. Don't you think that sounds like a much better idea than wasting another four years in this stagnant, heartless city?"
Tezuka didn't know what to say. Somehow, watching the tensai shrug off his imminent departure to a whole new continent, for who knew how long…
… Something in him was hurt. No, not only hurt. Angry.
"Well, if that's what you really want to do," was Tezuka's sharp answer, as he wrenched his eyes away from Fuji and started to walk toward the door.
"What? That's it?" Fuji demanded, sounding about as hurt as Tezuka felt. "I finally know where I'm going to college, and I tell you first of all, and you just shrug it off…?"
There was a pause. Tezuka just stood there, with his back to Fuji, as the last trace of that beautifully hurt voice faded from the air.
"I don't know what you expected," Tezuka said at last, in a low tone. "It's me, after all. Right?"
This was said more like a challenge than an established fact.
And little did Tezuka know, but when Fuji took that challenge…
It was the end of his life as he knew it.
There was a long, painful, ugly pause. A strange expression appeared on Fuji's face then, but Tezuka didn't see the maniacal look in those haunting blue eyes.
He didn't have to look, though. He was transfixed by the sound of that beautifully cruel voice, as the tensai spoke in a tone that Tezuka had never heard him use before…
"Yes, it is you, isn't it?"
Tezuka could hear the faint sound of thunder echoing outside the school walls.
"Yes, it is you. You're Tezuka, after all. You always know exactly where you're going, what you're doing with your life…"
"… Don't you?"
The last two words were added, not as a confirmation, but as a question. An ironic question, one that was already aware of the fact that the answer was not what it seemed.
Tezuka noticed this, and suddenly, he realized. Fuji had known all along.
The tensai already knew about the doubt that had begun to linger in Tezuka's heart, ever since that fatal loss…
… Suddenly, Tezuka was afraid. He felt his hand trembling as it gripped his bag.
That beautifully cruel voice went on…
"But you don't really know, do you? I can see right through you, Captain. You don't really know what you're doing, do you?"
A flash of lightning shot across the window like quicksilver. The light startled Tezuka out of his frightened trance.
"I know enough," was Tezuka's curt response, said as evenly as he could. He was determined to walk away. He wasn't going to listen to this, not from Fuji, of all people… not from someone who had quit the tennis team without any legitimate reason…
He turned to say goodbye to the tensai, every fiber of his being determined to walk away and never look back at Fuji ever again.
But in that moment, Tezuka was taken completely by surprise.
It was the beginning of something that he would never be able to escape for the rest of his life.
Fuji's eyes were still open, staring straight at Tezuka. That look in those sky blue irises was unmistakable. It was the look of someone who was absolutely desperate, who knew that he had been backed into a corner, that this was his only chance to play his final trump card and put his last bet on the line.
It was that look that changed Tezuka's life forever.
The tensai began slowly at first, speaking very softly almost under his breath. But that piercing look in those blue eyes rooted Tezuka's feet to the floor, and he couldn't escape the power of those words…
"What do you want, Tezuka? Is this all you want from life? Is this really it?"
Tezuka couldn't say a word, couldn't manage a single response to the rant that followed. But it didn't matter. Fuji never intended for him to respond.
"Is this all there is for you? A perfect plan, with your ambitions fully realized? Is that it, Tezuka?...
"… Will you stand alone when you've reached the top, and know that you're truly happy…?
"I doubt it! Because when you're at the top, you'll be completely alone. Even now, you're always alone. And I can't believe that loneliness is part of your perfect plan, Captain…
"No, Tezuka, if you think all the tennis trophies in the world will make you happy, you're sadly mistaken."
Even then, even with every earth-shattering word that Fuji had spoken, Tezuka's world had managed to remain intact. He was still afraid… Every word that the tensai had spoken had hit too close to home… But he was still in one piece.
Until Fuji iced the cake with his last bitter poison.
"Well, then, don't think that any of us will be there to keep you company. No… not Echizen, either…!
"… I know I won't be."
Tezuka never remembered what happened after Fuji finished his bitter rant. He knew that Fuji stormed out of the locker bay… He faintly realized that there had been tears in those beautiful blue eyes… but he couldn't remember how long he stood there, just staring at the exit, long after the tensai had vanished.
The next thing he knew, though, his feet were carrying him across the rain-soaked pavement. He had no idea where he was going, but he was going there anyway…
He had completely forgotten that he had been waiting for Oishi.
It would turn out to be a very fortunate mistake.
…
Tezuka sighed, trying to shake the dark memories of that day from his mind. Until today, any recollection of that fatal night had remained wrapped in a dull fog, the details hidden away in some forgotten corner of his brain.
But now, he had to remember. He had to.
Because now, he was going to face his conscience. He was going to look directly into those golden eyes, and he was going to tell him.
He was going to tell Echizen Ryoma about the night that Tezuka Kunimitsu died.
- - - - - - - - -
Ryoma took a deep breath, gripping the railing with both hands. He was standing on the overpass near the hotel, watching the traffic flood the street beneath the bridge. It was the busiest time of the morning, the time when every last person in Tokyo seemed to be crowding into the streets below. But on the narrow overpass, it was very quiet. Wherever those people were going, they seemed to have no use for a bridge in the sky above their heads.
Ryoma let his eyes wander upward, and he gazed at the pure blue color of that horizon. It almost took his breath away. He had never seen the sky look quite so blue…
… It made him think of Fuji's sky blue eyes, and that thought made him shudder for a moment.
…
"It would have been better if you had never come back."
…
Ryoma frowned at the memory. He hardly knew what he thought anymore, about that encounter with the tensai, about everything that had happened since he had returned to Japan…
… But whatever the case, he was going to see this inevitable cycle through to its end, wherever that end led.
Even if it meant that he, too, was going to fall from the sky and crash into the pavement below.
"Echizen."
Ryoma's heart caught in his throat.
It was him.
He turned to see Tezuka standing there, watching him, looking strangely pale in the clear morning light. It suddenly reminded him of the way Oishi had looked, when he had first told Ryoma that he was in love with Eiji.
It was something like that… but then again, there was something far more terrifying in that shattered look in Tezuka's eyes.
"Buchou… you came," Ryoma finally managed, swallowing hard.
Tezuka nodded, but said nothing.
For a moment, the two just stood there, looking at each other. The wind picked up above their heads, whipping around them like an urgent warning.
Ryoma gathered his thoughts, and then he plunged into his words headfirst.
"Tezuka-buchou, I need to know what happened to you," he said, with a sudden determination. "Why don't you play tennis anymore? Is that really true? I can't believe it, but…"
Ryoma's voice wavered, as he looked into those amber eyes that had become so unrecognizable to him. But he took another deep breath and managed to finish…
"What happened, Buchou?"
Tezuka came up alongside Ryoma, gazing out over the city for a moment in silence. When he did speak, it took the tennis star by surprise. It was a tone that Ryoma had never heard the former captain use, a tone of regret, even of shame.
"Echizen, you knew me. Tell me… what kind of man am I?"
Ryoma was absolutely bewildered, but he considered the question seriously, answering as best as he could.
"I'm sure you know what I think, Buchou," he began quietly, gazing up at the man he had always admired. "You're the strongest person that I know. I've never met anyone as determined or as dedicated as you are. Especially… especially not on the tennis court."
Tezuka looked up at that, almost surprised. For a moment, his eyes sparked, burning faintly with a flame that Ryoma remembered. But just as quickly, that flame was quenched, and suddenly Ryoma realized what it was… that one thing about Tezuka that had changed…
That thing wasn't in those eyes after all. Rather, it was missing from them.
Tezuka had lost the fire in his eyes.
That was what had changed the former captain's appearance so drastically. It had shocked Ryoma, at the first sight of that photograph on Eiji's shelf. And it had made his heart stand still, when he had first seen those eyes in person in the hotel lobby.
Those amber eyes no longer had any light in them. The spark that had once forced Ryoma to his knees on an isolated tennis court was completely gone.
… Why?
But before Ryoma could say a word, Tezuka responded to Ryoma's hesitant answer.
"I'm no longer worthy of such a compliment, Echizen," he said, in a very low tone, as he looked away again. "And for that, I have no one but myself to blame."
A minute passed, then two. Ryoma didn't know what to say, what should be said… He felt as though they were both frozen in time, until at last Tezuka spoke again.
"What I'm about to tell you, Echizen, is something that I've never told anyone else," Tezuka explained, almost in a whisper, as though he was barely able to say it. "I'm not sure if I will even be able to explain it to you, but… I will try…"
…
Tezuka walked, on and on, into the pouring rain. He was completely soaked, with the rain dripping off of his hair and his clothes, but he hardly noticed. He couldn't even see what was in front of him. Instead, all he could hear was that voice, speaking those bitter words into his mind…
"Is this all you want from life, Tezuka? Is this really it?"
He could hear that beautiful voice whispering in his ear, like sugar-coated poison, and it penetrated every fiber of his being until he could no longer distinguish that voice from his own thoughts…
He wondered when was the last time that Fuji had said something that had affected him so deeply.
… When had it mattered so much, what the tensai thought?
Tezuka started climbing the stairs to the train station platform. His feet were carrying him slowly home, even though he didn't realize it. He was too distracted to realize what he was doing. People were looking at him sympathetically, to see a high school student who had obviously forgotten his umbrella and was completely drenched in rainwater… But he didn't notice that, either.
What he did realize fully at that moment was his own painful train of thought, as he walked across the platform and stood near the edge, waiting for the train.
He had never thought about it before, but now he couldn't get it out of his mind.
He was doubting himself.
It was something completely foreign to Tezuka. He never doubted himself. He had his goal, and nothing could distract him from reaching that goal…
… But suddenly, the memories of the past few years weighed too heavily on his mind to ignore any longer.
He thought of that terrible loss at the Kantou Regionals, of that sickening feeling as he had watched Eiji lose so terribly in third singles, only to make way for a worse massacre in the second singles slot…
He had watched, completely helpless, as the team he had led was torn to pieces.
He had watched for three years while his other team had been torn apart, too. His team from junior high. His teammates, the ones he had led to the Nationals, the people he had trusted with his own dream…
… They, too, were falling apart. Momoshiro and Kaidoh weren't speaking to each other. Oishi and Eiji had grown apart, a thing completely incomprehensible to Tezuka's mind. And Taka… well, Taka had actually exploded at Fuji one day, and hit him, right in from of everybody…
Fuji.
At the thought of the tensai, Tezuka felt almost sick, and his chest tightened with pain.
"I said, I'm going to Paris. I'm running away."
Tezuka closed his eyes, tightly, against the cold wind that was biting at his face. But he couldn't ignore the ugly feeling that was growing inside of him, like some kind of tidal wave of depression and fear. … What was this feeling?
He didn't know why, but with the news that Fuji was running away to Paris, his whole world had started to shatter.
Something about it had made him finally realize…
He was completely alone.
Echizen had already left three years ago. And the truth, which Tezuka had never been willing to admit, was that the boy was not coming back. He could see that now. That confident look in all the photo ads showed no sign of regret…
Echizen was never coming back.
Tezuka opened his eyes again, watched the rain fall onto the train tracks below his feet.
Oishi was leaving too, he thought to himself.
Oishi was leaving for England. Even though Oishi hadn't been vice captain that year, Tezuka had still relied on him just as much as he had three years ago. Oishi was an irreplaceable friend, and suddenly, the thought of trying to live in a strange place without his friend at his side absolutely terrified him.
And now…
And now Fuji, Fuji Shusuke, Seigaku's former tensai…
Fuji, too, was leaving. For Paris, no less.
… Why was this the one thing that he couldn't possibly bear?
He had always been alone, after all.
So why had the thought of never seeing those blue eyes again…
… Why was it driving him to the very edge of despair?
Somewhere above his head, Tezuka heard the rumbling sound of thunder. The storm was escalating all around the platform, and the crowd of people nearby drew their arms to their chests, trying to keep warm against the freezing wind. But Tezuka just stood there, blankly staring in front of him, at those train tracks less than a meter beneath his feet…
His heart started pounding.
He could hear the roar of the coming train as it approached the station.
The weight of his own doubt, of his sudden fear of being alone, was pressing down upon him, fixing his eyes upon those train tracks.
This was nothing like him.
This wasn't him. This sudden urge that had seized his heart…
… This wasn't Tezuka Kunimitsu.
He would never do something like this.
Never.
Just like he would never doubt himself… just like he would never stand at a train station and fear being alone… just like he would never let his tennis team lose, let his teammates fall apart, let everything shatter into a thousand pieces…
Just as he would never let the words of a beautiful angel drive him to suicide.
The scream of the approaching train resounded in his ears, and that distant light grew brighter, and brighter…
He heard that beautiful voice again in his mind, as he closed his eyes, trying to shut out that terrifying light…
"Tezuka…
"I won't be there."
He opened his eyes again, and he couldn't escape it.
He was alone.
Tezuka didn't even hesitate after that.
He stepped forward, falling off the platform toward the track below, directly in the path of the oncoming train.
…
Ryoma couldn't believe what he had just heard. He couldn't believe a word of it. It had to be a lie.
He was desperate for this to be a lie.
It was one thing to think that Oishi was in love with Eiji. It was one thing to think that Fuji was schizophrenic.
… But Ryoma could not bear to believe this.
"No, Buchou," he pleaded, every ounce of pain he was feeling coming into his voice. "Please… Tell me you're lying! Tell me it's a lie!"
Tezuka's eyes, too, had filled with pain.
Without a word, his right hand reached toward his left wrist, and his fingers undid the cufflink and pulled his sleeve up past his elbow.
Tezuka Kunimitsu's left arm was disfigured and covered with scars, proof of his nearly successful suicide attempt at a Japanese train station over a year ago.
- end of chapter seventeen -
Useless Footnote: Because I am a geek, I had to put that poem by Walt Whitman in the first scene. It's called "O Captain! My Captain!", and ever since I first watched Prince of Tennis, it reminded me very much of Tezuka. It's actually a brilliant piece written about Abraham Lincoln's assassination, and one of my absolute favorite poems of all time… But, yeah, sorry if that was too weird for any of you! I also changed two of the words so that it was more relevant to Tezuka, in case anyone who's read the poem noticed.
A/N: Aagghhh! Sorry this is such a cliffhanger! XD But you all know Tezuka's secret now… The question left, of course, is why he did it, and also what happened afterwards, not to mention exactly how his arm was injured… Don't worry; I'll get to that! And because this is such a horrible cliffhanger, I'll do my best to finish the next chapter asap. If at all possible, I'll post it sometime this weekend, okay? In the meantime, sorry for all the suspense! Gaaahhh, you all must want to kill me… XD
Well, anyway, what do you think? Let me know what you thought of chapter seventeen, everyone! And rest assured that this story is far from over, even if the best-kept secret was just revealed. As you can imagine, the Seigaku Regulars have a heck of a lot to deal with now that all of this is out in the open…
As always, the FAQ is posted in my profile, and e-mail me any questions you may have.
Coming Up Next: The source of Tezuka's guilt over Oishi is revealed, along with what else happened on that rainy night where Tezuka made the worst mistake of his life. As for Ryoma, the tennis star is left to face the reality of this horrible truth, and he comes to realize exactly why it happened.